When the nest falls, a halo fanfic
by pancake29
Summary: My first fanfic, R&R. Shortly after the master cheif arrived at the military base known as 'crows nest', Commander Miranda keyes began to evacuate the base. This is the story of a squad of war torn marines trying to escape the covenant strike force


When the nest falls

Corporal Billy Fraser pounded down the corridor; plasma sizzled against the wall ahead of him, narrowly missing his helmeted head. He pulled out his M6G side-arm and squeezed off a few shots at his chasers, four grunts. The covenant used those stocky aliens as cannon fodder and meat shields. But these ones were unusually well armed, needlers and plasma rifles. "They must be the spec-ops I've heard so much about." Thought CPL Fraser.

Three of the five bullets he'd fired found their targets. Two grunts fell; a third had florescent blue blood over its black exo-skeleton and was limping, the 12.3mm round had torn right through the toughened alloy and skin and had implanted itself in the grunts lower right thigh.

The corporal rounded a corner then put his back against the wall to catch his breath. He holstered his pistol and unslung his other weapon, an M90 close assault weapon system, or as he called it; shotty, and peered around the corner.

Twelve meters away the unhurt grunt was helping its wounded comrade into a stable position to help with its pain. Fraser fired his shotty at the grunts, just to get their attention, he knew it wouldn't hurt then but what he hadn't expected was the unwounded grunt to pull out its plasma rifle, pick up a needler from one of its dead friends, start running towards him and pull the triggers of the weapons, releasing razor sharp needles and super-heated plasma towards him. Fraser ducked around the corner and cocked the shotgun, allowing a new round into the chamber and ejecting the spent casing.

Now Yapap wasn't a stupid grunt but he also wasn't the smartest of his kind and as he rounded the corner of the corridor he knew that the human had out-smarted him. The last thing he saw was the alien smiling then fifteen lead balls blasted their way into the grunts chest, puncturing the majority of his vital organs.

The corporal peeked around the corner, just to see where the wounded grunt was. It was in the same area as before but it was now loading a needler, it never noticed the corporal pull the pin out of an M9 HE DP fragmentation grenade, count to three then throw it. The grenade bounced and wedged itself between the wall and the pyramidical tank on the grunts back (which housed the super-chilled methane they breathed). Two seconds later there was a loud bang and a splat as blood and body parts hit the walls.

"Ooh-rah!" Shouted the corporal.

Fraser heard footsteps approaching behind him. He cocked the weapon in his hands and spun around, finger on the trigger, ready to fire when he realised it was Private George McDonald, his oldest friend.

"Whoa! What did I say?" George asked jokingly.

Fraser replied. "Sorry I'm hyped up leftover adrenaline. Four grunts KIA round there."

The corporal motioned around the corner.

"Sarge wants everyone at the launch pad ASAP; we're leaving mount. Kilimanjaro for the covenant. But Commander Keyes is getting this mountain rigged to blow sky-high!" said the young private.

The corporal's dark blue eyes lit up momentarily.

"Take me to our leader!" The corporal said pointing the way the private had come

"Gladly." Said George.

After 10 minutes running through corridors the corporal and the private stepped out of the corridor and onto the platform overlooking the landing pad. The corporal had to shield his eyes with an armoured arm to block out some of the dazzling light coming from the four holes in the top of the huge cavern. The hangar was a few corridors away, so drop-ships and single-ship fighters could be brought to the landing pads in a matter of minutes. It had originally been designed to hold four 747 Boeing jet planes, ancient rocks compared to the modern ships, but just know they were covered in a few pelican drop-ships and lots of albatross re-supply ships being loaded with ammunition and fuel for the upcoming evacuation. One was even being loaded with a sixty-six tonne scorpion main battle tank. The corporal knew at once the situation was even worse than they had been told.

A man spotted them, start to walk towards the stairs and climb them. Fraser spotted him and recognised him as Sergeant Fons, but everyone just called him 'Sarge'. He was the one who had saved Private McDonald from a pack of savage vulture-like Jackals and had logged more than one thousand five hundred kills in his twelve year long career. His face was scarred and his head had been shaved recently. He had a fresh scar down the left side of his neck from a particularly nasty fight with a brute chieftain. Sarge had his duty cap in one hand and an M6G strapped to his leg holster. He walked past the private and the corporal to a metal weapon-rack and picked up a BR55HB SR, the more powerful of the two. He chucked an MA5C to the private and told him to 'conserve ammo'.

The group headed down the stairs and towards a pelican drop-ship. It wasn't a standard D77TC drop-ship; it looked more streamlined and less bulky. Two pilots were standing outside the rear hatch, talking about the new ship.

"The controls are way more responsive than the other drop-ship." Said the co-pilot

"Yeah, but you're sitting behind me now thanks to the refurbishment of the cockpit." Replied the pilot.

Sarge cleared his throat and asked" We clear for takeoff yet?"

"Nearly, we're waiting to re-fuel the ship. But you're welcome to go on-board and wait." Said the pilot

The five men climbed on-board to find their seats, the two pilots walked through a vacuum-tight door to get to the control seats.

When the pelican was cleared for takeoff, The Sarge had been telling one of his many war stories to the pilots and the marines. Over the course of the story several more people had climbed onboard. They were the remnants of the original squad.

"And when I woke up, it was still dark and I knew straightaway that everything was different." The Sarge said.

His story was cut short by the scream of a damaged banshee fighter flying into an albatross, engulfing it in a ball of purple fire. Its fuel tanks popping like fire crackers.

"Let's get out of here!" Shouted the pilot.

The ships engines sprang to life and it jumped off its landing skids and it flew towards the holes in the roof. As the rear hatch closed and they flew out of the mountain, the shooting started, hard and fast. The corporal saw a Vampire heavy flyer slot itself behind the pelican and fire its heavy needler turret. The large explosive crystal flew and hit the left rear engine, smashing the titanium alloy to pieces.

"Oh crap lost a thruster! Hang on." The pilot screamed down the comm.-link.

The flaming pelican crashed into a field, crushing a tool shed. The rear hatch exploded off and the passengers scampered away from the burning ship.

"Head-count!" Said Sarge. They did the count and found one person missing.

"Where the hell is the corporal?" Asked Sarge.


End file.
